Exit Music (For a Film)
by Gilded
Summary: John finds a way to bring Mary back and he's willing to pay any price to make it happen. Dean isn't sure it's worth what they'll lose.


**Title**: Exit Music (For a Film)

**Author**: Gilded

**Characters**: Sam, Dean, and John

**Word Count**: 1,861

**Genre**: AU, pre-series

**Rating**: PG- 13

**Spoilers**: None, unless you've never watched Supernatural and are just reading this inexplicably.

**Disclaimer**: Not mine, never will be, and no profit is being made from this story.

**Summary**: John finds a way to bring Mary back and he's willing to pay any price to make it happen. Dean isn't sure it's worth what they'll lose.

_Authors Note: So, this idea has been floating in my head for a while and, since I'm the worst procrastinator in the world, it took me forever to sit down and write it. Also, no beta so all mistakes are mine. _

~ **SPN** ~

Dean's nervous.

Today's the day, the day he and Dad have been waiting twelve years for; the day they finally get Mom back.

Dean shifts, restlessly looking at the closed bathroom door, the ceiling, the rumpled twin beds. Rinse and repeat. Finally, the relative silence of the bedroom he shares with Sam is too much and he has to do something.

"Sammy, I know you're a pretty, pretty princess but this is getting ridicules. Dad's ganna be here in ten, so get your ass out already."

"Who put a stick up your butt" Sam mumbles from behind the closed bathroom door.

Sam's been growing steadily bitchier since he was four and irritably informed Dean that no, he doesn't need help reading "_See Spot Run._" He can do that all by himself, thank you very much. Sometimes, Dean even secretly suspects that Sam has been slowly developing a vagina since he hit puberty.

"_Nature's Gift"_ would certainly go a long way to explaining Sam's sporadic mood swings.

Possible menstruation aside, Sam knows keeping Dad waiting for any amount of time is an excellent way to make life a living nightmare for however long it takes Dad to decide you've paid sufficiently for wasting his precious time.

Dean might get away with it occasionally, but Sam? Not a snow ball's chance in hell. It's one of the thousand little differences in how his father treats them that Dean tries not to think about.

So, when Sam stumbles out of the bathroom 30 seconds later, towel clad and in all his 5'4'', ninety-five pound glory, Dean isn't surprised.

Sam briefly shoots a pissy expression in his direction before walking over to his already packed duffel to search for cloths approaching clean.

Sam's going to be a hand-full when he reaches high school. Sam would've been a hand-full.

And with that thought, suddenly there's not enough air, enough space, enough _time_ in the world for Dean and all he wants to do is scream.

Some of inner horror must have shown on his face, because now Sammy (_his sweet, trusting Sammy_) is looking at him with his patented "_I know there's something bothering you, so tell me now_" face. Puppy dog eyes coming out in full force.

All Dean can see are those same eyes staring up at him, vacant and milky.

Dean needs to leave, needs to leave right the fuck now. Before he pukes or has a chance to do something he'll regret. Because if Sammy asks him what's wrong, Dean's going to lose the resolve he's spent **twelve** (_oh God, Sam's only twelve_) years building up.

And if Dean loses his resolve? Well, then there's nothing stopping him from bundling up Sam and taking him far away from what's about to happen.

"Dean, what's-"

"Boys, get your lazy asses down here already."

Dean turns away from Sam as fast as he can, rushing towards the front door of the small two story house they're currently squatting in.

Dean's not sure if he's relieved or devastated that Dad cut off Sammy's question.

~ **SPN** ~

_John sets and watches his world go up in flames, with nothing left but an old beat up car, his son, and the squealing infant his wife had died suspended over._

_He's never needed a drink more in his life._

_Three weeks later, John's still very much living in the bottle. Only now, he has all the horrifying knowledge about the terrible, terrible things that lurk in the night. Just waiting to tear apart innocent families. _

_John's eyes shift over to where Sammy's trying to push himself around the tiny motel room with a perpetually silent Dean shadowing his every move. Smiling like nothing bad could ever happen. Except it already has, oh God, it already has._

_One month, two weeks after his world ended, John's finally sober enough to take stalk of all that's changed. Dean's just a pale, skinny lump curled around that tiny, wriggling thing that doesn't even have the decency to stay quite in the wake of their grief._

_For one insane moment, John wants to walk over to the baby boy Dean's been dutifully taking care of and just shake him. __**Hard**__. Till he understands just what all of them have lost. Till he can't breathe or make those happy little baby sounds like he wasn't the reason Mary died._

_And John knows, deep in his bones, that Sam's the reason his Mary's just ash in the wind now. His life was near perfect till that little monster brought that thing into their home._

_The moment passes but the feeling remains._

_Does suddenly wishing his wife had miscarried while she had the chance make John a horrible father? Probably, but he doesn't plan on dwelling on that thought._

_Right now, he has to rouse his boy and get some food down his throat before his son wastes away completely. Dean can just keep doing whatever the fuck he wants with Sammy. John really doesn't care._

_Three months, one week, and five days after the love of his life burnt alive right in front of him, John feels lighter than he has since Mary finally said "yes" after he popped the big question for the fourth time._

_He can bring her back._

_He can bring her back and it won't cost him anything of value._

~ **SPN** ~

Sammy's suspicious as hell.

Dean's not surprised. Positions reversed, he'd have already found a way to surreptitiously slip some salt into Dad's coffee after the man had acted downright _giddy_ herding them towards the Impala.

He hadn't even been mad about them being 30 seconds late (_Sammy's fault_). He'd simply smiled softly, said something along the lines of '_everyone's late sometimes'_, then whisked them away to the car.

His dad's currently humming softly to himself, looking all kinds of pleasant, while Sam's sporting this weird, constipated look on his face that signifies he's doing his level best not to totally freak-out.

Dean thinks he would chuckle if it wasn't so sad what that said about their life. Oh, and the fact that today's the day Sammy's supposed to shuffle off his mortal coil.

Dean feels the knot form in his stomach he's been expecting all day.

"You boys want some ice cream?" Dad asks, smile stretching across his bearded face.

Dean looks back at Sam from his position in the front passenger seat. Sam looks up to meet Dean's stare from the back.

"Sure?" It comes out more a question then Dean's sure Sam meant for it too.

Sam holds his gaze for a few more seconds then mouths '_what the hell' before_ sinking back into the seat cushion. It's such a Sam motion that Dean suddenly feels like crying.

Ten minutes later, Dad pulls up behind a rundown looking Dairy Queen and tells Dean to get himself and Sam some ice cream.

"Something in a cup", he says, "don't want you boys getting ice cream all over the car."

He carefully doesn't react to the slight bulge he feels between the wad of ones his dad passes him through the driver side window.

Dean jogs around the building and, once he's sure he's out of view of the Impala, takes out the small, clear packet filled with white powder from between the dollar bills and stuffs it in his pocket.

'_Drugs'_, his mind supplies helpfully, _'wouldn't want little Sammy struggling, now would we.'_

Five minutes later, Dean has successfully retrieved two blizzards from the rather bored looking college student manning the cash register. Butterscotch for himself and Oreo for Sammy.

Sammy loves Oreo.

One quick detour to a near-by trash can, a ripped plastic packet, and a pair of badly shaking hands later, Dean's back on track to the impala.

When he gets back to the car, Dad still has a slight smile playing on his face and is humming _"Hey Jude"_ while Sam is pushing into the back seat so hard Dean's afraid he may just meld with the Impala.

Dad spots him and the little smile turns into a full-on grin.

"Set in the back with your brother so you don't drip any of that mess on the maps" Dad says when what he really means is _'make sure the little brat eats all of that.'_ Dean gives a little nod that says _'massage received, loud and clear.'_

Sam gives him a questioning look as Dean passes him the Oreo blizzard. It's not surprising. Dean had once gone on an hour long rant over how butterscotch is possibly the worst flavor in the whole damned world. Dean takes a big bite out of his blizzard and gives Sam the cockiest grin he can muster.

Sam just ducks his head and mumbles what sounds suspiciously like 'contaminated water' before starting in on his own blizzard. Sam's about a third of the way through when he lifts his head and starts burning holes into the back of Dad's skull.

"So… why do we get ice cream again?" Sam asks, that ginormous brain of his already trying to find what angle Dad is trying to play.

'_That's a pretty valid question'_ Dean thinks.

"Dude, does it matter? Shut up and eat your ice cream, bitch" Dean says.

Sammy huffs a soft "jerk" under his breath while simultaneously giving him what Dean has lovingly nicknamed "_Bitch Face Classical_" before going back to his blizzard.

Five minutes later, they've both finished their ice cream and Dad is back on the road, humming all the way.

Dean sees the moment Sam realizes something is very wrong when he starts to tip towards Dean and can't quite get his mussels to cooperate enough to stop his descent. His head ends up in Dean's lap, his eyes already half-mast and his body flailing weakly as he tries to fight off the drug running through his system.

He looks terrified. Eyes fighting valiantly to stay open while his breaths come in short, ragged bursts from a panic tight chest. Probably wondering why, _oh why_, isn't his family doing anything to help when something is so obviously wrong.

And Dean… well, he can't just sit back and let the last feeling his baby brother experiences be terror.

Lovingly, he cards one hand through Sam's ridiculously thick locks and uses the other to gently thumb away the tears starting to sluggishly trail down his brother's flushed cheeks. He'd done this a million times when they were younger and Sam had decided to cling to him like a particularly determined barnacle after a nightmare.

Dean screws up his face in what he hopes is a comforting smile then leans down to whisper what he's counting on Sammy not realizing are false reassurances in his ear.

After about a minute of repeated _'I love you's'_ and _'everything will be okay's,'_ Sam's body finally relaxes, and keeps relaxing until he stops twitching and his breathing is deep and even.

"He out?" Dad barks from the front seat.

Dean swallows loudly, gives a quick nod, then goes back to stroking Sammy's soft, chestnut brown hair.

They're going to get Mary back today. Dean's not sure it's worth it.

~ **SPN** ~

_Post Note: So, there's supposed to be two extra scenes here to tie up the story and give it better closure at the end. One scene set in the past with John and the other set in the present with Dean. I'm just so incredibly lazy I may never write them._

_-With love, Gilded _


End file.
